


Black Coffee

by sadlonelyyogurt



Category: The Outsiders - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkwardness, F/F, Gay Panic, Girls Kissing, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Late Night Conversations, Light Angst, Past Relationship(s), Romance, Romantic Fluff, Useless Lesbians, a cottage core lesbian and a dark academia bisexual walk into a coffee shop, because im trash like that, coffee shop AU, granted there are like 4 female characters but still, i know i said cherry was a disaster bi but she actually has her shit together for the most part, she's more of a functional bi tbh, theres not enough wlw fics in this fandom, well one useless lesbian and one disaster bi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:35:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24863170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadlonelyyogurt/pseuds/sadlonelyyogurt
Summary: When she sees the face of the woman who ordered a straight black coffee at a fucking Starbucks, Marcia drops said coffee all over the both of them.Or, Marcia is really gay and Cherry is too, and they haven't seen each other in years but a chance meeting brings them into each others lives again.
Relationships: Marcia/Sherri "Cherry" Valance
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	Black Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> i was feeling gay so enjoy this self indulgent shit
> 
> Takes place in 2020, nine years after Bob dies (so like essentially have everything that happened in the book happen 46 years in the future, and then this story is nine years after that.)

When she sees the face of the woman who ordered a straight black coffee at a fucking starbucks, Marcia drops said coffee all over the both of them.

She doesn’t even notice it for a moment, she’s paralyzed, staring with disbelief at the red head in front of her. Because there’s no way… 

And yet, there she is. Cherry Fucking Valance.

Cherry is wearing darker makeup than Marcia’s ever seen her in and she has cute little black specs framing her eyes, but she’s definitely Cherry Valance. Marcia could never forget a face like hers, not even after so long.

“Um, excuse me, miss?” Cherry says after a moment, face flustered and concerned, “Are you okay?”

There’s no recognition in her eyes. It’s then Marcia realizes with a strange painful sensation in her gut, that Cherry must have no idea who she is. 

In a split second decision, Marcia grabs the coffee cup and throws it in the garbage before apologizing profusely. She’s already left her past behind, and this is just a coincidence. 

“It’s-um, it’s okay,” Cherry says. She checks her watch, an expensive looking one. Cherry did always like expensive things. “Shit, I’m going to be late.”

“Are you sure you don’t want another?” Marcia asks, out of instinct because she knows that’s what she’s supposed to ask.

Cherry just shakes her head. “No, it’s alright. I have a meeting.”

And then she’s gone, and Marcia gets her ear talked off by her boss.

When Cherry and Marcia were little, they used to pretend to own a bakery together. They made a little storefront out of a cardboard box and Marcia would bring her toy cash register to Cherry’s house and they’d set up in front of Cherry’s toy kitchen. Their parents would come and “buy” their food, and Marcia and Cherry would take turns counting their earnings. 

Now Marcia works at a Starbucks, and it’s not a little French bakery like she and Cherry were imagining as five year olds, but Marcia thinks it can’t be that different. And so she knows now that working in a bakery coffee shop isn’t anything like she thought it was.

Cherry doesn’t come to the Starbucks again for two weeks. Marcia thinks she must have imagined her, or maybe she just fooled herself into thinking some poor random woman was Cherry Valance. 

But then a shock of red, red hair meets her eyes again, and Marcia knows she isn’t crazy.

When Cherry sees Marcia this time, her face gets red and she looks like she wants to leave. But Marcia has already spotted her, so Cherry goes up to the counter to order. Marcia’s coworker Devon, who’s working the register, winks at her, and she doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he misread the situation.

She gives Cherry her black coffee this time without dropping it, and she’s proud of herself for that.

“Sorry about last time,” Marcia says. “I mistook you for someone else.”

Cherry smiles forgivingly, and _god_ , Marcia missed that smile. “It’s okay. That happens to me sometimes.”

Cherry takes the coffee but keeps standing there, staring, head cocked, as if she’s trying to see the pores in Marcia’s face. Marcia shifts uncomfortably.

“It happened with you, too,” Cherry says finally, and her voice is soft, tentative. “You just look so familiar-”

She stops herself, her face getting all red again, and she says, “Anyway, thanks. Have a good day.”

She’s gone a second time, and Marcia feels empty without her presence there. She stares after her as she makes her way along the sidewalk of the city.

“So, did you get her number?” Devon asks smugly, snapping Marcia out of her trance.

“It isn’t like that, man.”

Devon just shrugs. “Sure seemed like that to me.”

 _It used to be like that_ , Marcia thinks, but doesn’t say. _It used to be, and she doesn’t even remember it_.

Marcia isn’t mad at Cherry for not remembering her. It’s been nine years, after all, and Marcia looks a lot different now. She used to dye her hair lavender and wear baggy cargo pants and tube tops, but now she dresses as cottagecore as possible and she’s let her hair grow out to its natural dark brown. She keeps it in a short, sensible bob, and doesn’t wear makeup most days. This Marcia and sixteen year old Marcia are very different people.

She wonders if Cherry’s a lot different, too. From the little interaction they’ve had, she seems to have at least changed. Her fashion sense is a completely new look, and Marcia finds she quite likes it. It makes Cherry look smart and dreamy at the same time.

Cherry comes in the next day, and this time Marcia takes a moment to really appreciate her outfit. Fashion choices often reflect personality, and she wants to know how much Cherry has really changed. Changed so much she doesn’t remember Marcia.

Cherry is dressed classy and academic in a dark grey blazer and tan turtleneck sweater, with a plaid skirt and tall nude heels to match. 

There’s some kind of name for that look, Marcia thinks. It’s an aesthetic that has something to do with libraries and… 

“… Black coffee,” Cherry is saying, and Devon punches her order into the register. Marcia can’t help but wonder who under forty five drinks black coffee. No one, except for apparently Cherry Valance. 

Cherry and Marcia used to drink vanilla bean frappes together. Now Marcia can’t stand them, and Cherry probably can’t either if she takes her coffee black.

When Marcia gets Cherry’s coffee cup she hands it to her with a smile.

“Back so soon?” She says.

Cherry blushes. She never used to be that easy. “I liked the service,” she says, and Marcia knows Cherry’s flirting because her service has been subpar at best. She wonders how Cherry found herself in this city, in the very Starbucks Marcia works in, found herself _flirting_ with Marcia, and she still doesn’t realize that they knew each other years before.

And Marcia’s not mad, really, just disappointed. Jesus, she sounds like her mother.

Marcia doesn’t ask for Cherry’s number, but Cherry doesn’t ask for hers, only seems let down when her flirting isn’t reciprocated. Marcia feels bad for it- she hates seeing that look on Cherry’s face- but she can’t go opening up old wounds. If Cherry doesn’t know who she is, then maybe it should stay that way.

Cherry comes in the next day, too. She’s stubborn as ever. 

“I never got your name,” she says as Marcia hands her yet another black coffee.

Marcia hesitates long enough for Cherry to cock her head, but she finally gets out: “M-Marci.”

She doesn’t know why she uses the new nickname people now use for her, and not her full name like Cherry knew her by. Still, she expects Cherry’s face to change then, to recognize her and tell her she’s so sorry for not realizing sooner. But Cherry just holds out her hand for Marcia to shake. 

“I’m Sherri,” she says, and Marcia feels her heart drop. Cherry doesn’t even go by Cherry anymore.

Cherry must think Marcia is oblivious and doesn’t notice her advances, because five days into their little awkward routine Cherry says, “Hey, so, it’s fine if you don’t want but… well I was wondering if you’d wanna grab a cup of coffee with me?” She casts her eyes around the Starbucks then and hastily corrects herself. “Maybe not coffee, actually. What about… do you like pastries? Baked goods? There’s this really cute cafe over by my place, I could take you if you wanted.”

She’s going to keep talking, clearly nervous like Marcia has never seen her before. The Cherry she knew was always so confident and sure. She’d never ramble on like this. 

Marcia knows she should probably turn her away. But she doesn’t think she could stand it if Cherry were to stop coming back to her Starbucks. It’s started to be the highlight of her mornings, even though Devon always teases her after.

“Um, sure Cher- uh, Sherri. I’d like that.”

Cherry smiles wide, and it’s all worth it.

“So, have you lived in the city long?” Cherry sips black coffee as they stroll along the sidewalk, because apparently she can’t get enough of the bitter stuff. Marcia prefers her hot chocolate, which is currently too hot to drink.

She nods. “I’ve been here for a little over eight years.”

“Oh, wow,” Cherry says. “That’s a long time. I just moved a few months ago. I’ve been moving around the country for a while now. I can’t seem to settle down.”

“How come?”

Cherry reaches behind her head and strokes her hair nervously. It’s something she used to do when she was anxious. The familiar gesture puts Marcia a bit at ease.

“I… guess I just never found the right place.” Something feels missing from the answer, like Cherry isn’t telling the whole truth, but Marcia doesn’t push her. “Anyway,” Cherry says, perking up suddenly, “Where were you from before originally?”

Marcia takes a deep breath. She knows if she tells Cherry this, Cherry will remember her. She has to, right? There’s no way she won’t make the connection at this point.

“I’m a long way from home,” Marcia says, simply stalling because she’s scared Cherry won’t want to know her. Maybe Cherry’s been moving around for a reason, escaping like Marcia did a long time ago. “But I was born and raised-”

And Marcia doesn’t know if it’s a curse or a blessing, but right before she spills the truth, a truck with unnecessarily large wheels goes crashing through the curbside puddle still leftover from the rain the night before. Cherry survives relatively unscathed, but there’s isn’t much Marcia can do but give an indignant squeak before her clothes are entirely drenched with muddy, polluted water.

“Oh, Jesus, shit, oh my gosh,” Cherry is saying, hovering over Marcia’s sopping form. 

Marcia blinks water out of her eyes, face reddening. “Fuck.”

“Um,” Cherry says, “Geez, I’m so sorry about your clothes.”

“It’s not your fault.” Marcia shakes out her hands and surveys her condition, arms held away from her sides.

Cherry gives her a once over. “Wanna… wanna go to my place and get cleaned off?”

Marcia hesitates, but then she nods. Maybe it’s fate, she thinks, that they found each other. And once they’ve found each other, Marcia knows better than to think they’ll be able to stay away.

“Here.” Cherry hands her a dark grey t-shirt with a quote on it that Marcia thinks is Shakespeare, and a pair of brown, fluffy drawstring shorts. Marcia takes them and goes to Cherry’s bathroom. It’s nice in there, neat and organized. The contrast to Marcia’s own dingy bathroom is almost comical.

When she finishes dressing, she heads to where she can hear Cherry in the kitchen. One thing Marcia notices about Cherry’s apartment is that there are no pictures. There’s paintings and drawings and pages of poetry framed on the walls, but there are no photographs anywhere. Marcia finds it strange, because Cherry always used to be such a sentimental person. Her walls were so covered with Polaroids it was practically impossible to see the yellow paint underneath. 

Cherry turns around as Marcia walks in, brandishing a butter knife covered in off brand nutella, judging by the open jar sitting on the counter nearby.

“Oh, hey.”

“Hi.” Marcia stands by the counter, trying not to look as awkward as she feels and failing miserably. She doesn’t know what she’s supposed to say. What do you say to your years ago best friend who doesn’t even know you?

“I, uh, made a snack,” Cherry says. 

Marcia’s heart flutters a bit when she sees exactly what it is. Nutella (off brand, but still), spread on a piece of toast and topped with slices of banana. It was Marcia and Cherry’s favorite comfort food, sometime ago. Marcia’s mother made it for them when they were little, and when they were teenagers they always treated themselves to a piece or two while working through a breakup. Marcia hasn’t had anything close to it in years. Apparently, Cherry is a regular indulger.

All Marcia can manage to say as she’s handed the piece is, “Thanks.” Cherry just smiles.

Marcia is overwhelmed, to say the least. 

Cherry somehow strikes up a conversation, and they talk about their lives for a while. Cherry went to college for journalism, got a degree, and was working for a good salary in Chicago. She stayed there for a year and she thought she might settle down, but things didn’t work out. She got antsy, she left. Now she’s at another newspaper that pays less and the men there expect her to get them coffee more than write, but she’s staying afloat. 

“I haven’t been able to feel content somewhere since I was sixteen,” she says. Marcia feels guilty. She wonders if it’s partly her fault.

Marcia tells Cherry about moving to the city when she was sixteen, about having eleven roommates and sleeping in a bathtub three nights a week. She was pursuing photography for a while, but it got too expensive and no one would hire a girl with no formal education in the subject. She started working at Starbucks, and she’s been there ever since. Eventually she upgraded to two roommates, and then one, and then zero. 

She’s still totally poor and her apartment looks abandoned since she sold all her furniture for the down payment, but she has a stray cat she adopted and at least that’s something. 

She has friends, a job, a roof over her head. There were times in her life when it looked like she wouldn’t have any of those things, so she’s grateful now that she feels safe, at least. She hasn’t felt _satisfied_ in a long time, but being satisfied and being safe are two completely different levels of complication that Marcia can’t think about while working at a Starbucks and living off mostly microwaved nachos.

It’s getting late before either of them realize it. 

“Oh, shit, it’s already eleven,” Marcia says, glancing at the ancient looking clock on Cherry’s wall. “I’d better go, I got work in the morning.”

Cherry walks her to the door, where Cherry’s three pairs of oxfords sit in a neat line on a rubber mat and her dark toned coats hang on a hand painted rack. 

“Thanks for the clothes,” Marcia says. “And the toast.”

Cherry smiles. Her emerald eyes are still so pretty. “Of course.”

Both of them pause then, staring into each other’s eyes. Cherry looks as conflicted as Marcia feels.

“Look, Cherry-” Marcia gets out, ready to tell her everything, at the same time Cherry says, “Marcia, I-”

They stop, and for a moment the room is deathly quiet. All Marcia can see are Cherry’s green eyes widening in shock, and then filling with tears.

“You knew?” They both say at the same time. And then they burst out laughing. 

“ _Marcia_ ,” Cherry says, and then she’s opening her arms, enveloping Marcia in a hug. Marcia barely sees it coming and she stiffens for a moment, but Cherry’s hold is firm and she eventually leans into it. Cherry uses the same lemon shampoo, but she wears perfume now. It has an almost cologne like scent, but a bit more fruity. Marcia likes it.

Cherry’s shaking against her, crying silently, and Marcia’s tearing up, too.

“I thought-” Cherry murmurs, “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“Me neither,” Marcia says. “Not after I left.”

Marcia holds onto Cherry a little tighter as her mind brings her back to years before. When Bob died and Randy skipped town, and Cherry and Marcia found solace in each other. And then Marcia’s mother found them, and the world burned around Marcia for the second time in only a few weeks. She’d gone to Cherry’s house one last time and they embraced one another like they were now. Marcia didn’t tell Cherry she was leaving. She wondered for so long after if maybe she should have.

“I’m sorry,” she says, crying now. Cherry shushes her and finally pulls away, taking Marcia’s hand and leading her to the bedroom. The queen bed there is made and looks impossibly soft. Marcia hasn’t even set foot near a bed like that in nine years. 

They lay down together, arms draped haphazardly over each other, legs tangled. Marcia takes a strand of Cherry’s hair in her hand. It’s still bright red, like it always was. Cherry’s hair used to be Marcia’s favorite thing in the whole world. 

When they were ten, she was braiding it one day and she said “Your hair’s so red. Like a cherry. Cherry. Sherri Cherry.”

Everyone else started calling her Cherry after that, but for Marcia and Cherry, the name was always special. It held a different meaning to them, especially when they were older.

“No one’s called me Cherry in years,” Cherry tells her. She’s looking down to where Marcia’s playing with her hair.

“Well, people don’t call me Marcia much anymore either, so.”

Marcia’s never felt anything so incredibly familiar and yet painfully foreign all at once before. Lying in a bed with her hands in Cherry’s hair, their faces almost touching, the lights out so only the moon illuminates them, she feels safe. She’s done this with Cherry a thousand times before, except this time, it doesn’t feel like a secret. It doesn’t feel like something that Marcia will eventually lose, or have to give up. At least, she doesn’t think she will, and she doesn’t know she will, so she tells any other intrusive thoughts to get lost. 

“You know, when I saw you at first,” Cherry says, voice low, “I didn’t think it was really you. I thought you just looked similar. I hadn’t seen a picture of you in ages. And so I went home and looked through an old Google photos album and realized who you were, and I couldn’t go back to that Starbucks for so long. But one day I was running late and I had to, and you were there and I couldn’t stay away from you after that. But I didn’t know how to tell you it was me. It felt like if I did, you’d run away again.”

“Cherry…” Marcia murmurs. She doesn’t know what she’s supposed to say.

“You really hurt me, you know.” Cherry rolls away, onto her back, and Marcia feels cold without her. “I thought maybe I wasn’t enough for you to stay.”

Marcia swallows thickly. “You know I didn’t have a choice. My mother-”

“But you could have told me,” Cherry insists. “That you were leaving. I would have gone with you.”

“I couldn’t have asked you to do that.”

“I didn’t say you had to ask.” 

Cherry turns her head to look at Marcia again, and they have a staring contest for a few seconds. Marcia finally glances down.

“I was scared,” she admits. “Your boyfriend was _murdered_ , Cherry, and mine was gone. My mother kicked me out and cut me off and said terrible things to me and I just-” her voice breaks. “I just couldn’t involve you, too. You deserved something better. The rest of us were falling apart, but you had a chance, and you deserved that chance.”

Cherry is silent, and Marcia thinks she might be crying again. She doesn’t want to see Cherry cry.

“Do you know whatever happened to Randy?” Cherry asks, and it’s a bit out of the blue but Marcia doesn’t mind. They’re both out of sorts.

She shakes her head. “I Googled him, once, but I closed the tab before anything popped up. It felt better not knowing, you know? Like if he died or something, it’s better if I never know.”

Cherry nods like she understands, but for some reason Marcia can’t stop talking.

“There’s a picture I still have of all of us, and he’s got his arm around me and stuff but I’m not even looking at him. I’m looking at you. And I never told him I don’t like boys like that. I think he loved me.” She doesn’t tell Cherry how she’s pretty sure he loved Bob more, but she thinks maybe Cherry already knows.

“I used to wonder about them all the time, you know. I wondered about Randy and you and my mom and dad and Bob’s parents and that kid who killed him. We met that kid, Cherry. We met the kids who were the last to ever see Bob alive five hours before it even happened. I almost went out with one of their friends. It’s crazy how fast things can change.” 

Cherry reaches her hand out and cups it around Marcia’s face, her eyes full of something Marcia can’t quite name. And her mouth just keeps running.

“I never liked Bob. Bob never liked me either, and so it was fine with the both of us. I was always jealous of him, I think, because he was the kind of guy your parents wanted you to be with, so you chose him over me. I never blamed you, Cher, because you didn’t really have a choice, but I blamed Bob even though it wasn’t his fault, either. Bob knew about you and me. He never said anything, but I’m like 90% sure he knew and that’s why he didn’t like me. And then he died, and I just wish all that resentment could be erased. It’s pretty messed up, you know, ‘cause when he was alive I never liked him, but now that he’s gone, I miss him.”

Her mouth feels dry. She could go on, but Cherry takes her hand and places it gently over Marcia’s mouth. Marcia lets out a small sigh of relief. If Cherry hadn’t stopped her, she might have talked for the rest of eternity.

“He was the school's golden boy,” Cherry says, remembering. She doesn’t move her hand. “Everyone loved him, and his parents spoiled him to bits. He was… he was mean sometimes, though, to the poor kids who went to our school. And even to me. But he liked me a lot. He loved me.” 

Marcia takes Cherry’s hand away from her mouth and kisses her palm. “You sure got a lot of people who felt that way about you, Cher.”

Cherry gives her a watery smile, though it’s filled with sadness. Cherry’s been hurt, and sometimes it’s painful to remember. Marcia’s been hurt, too. She knows how it feels.

“I loved you,” Cherry murmurs. “I never stopped loving you. I moved on from you because I thought I’d lost you, but deep inside me I still loved you.” 

“Me too,” Marcia says. She feels worn out, exhausted. 

When Marcia first left, she’d been angry with Cherry for some ridiculous, unidentifiable reason. Then, she missed her. Cried herself to sleep and tried to imagine Cherry next to her. And then Marcia did her best to forget her. She was successful, for the most part. Nine years. Nine years was a long time. Nine years was almost a decade. 

Neither of them say anything else. There’s more to be said, but it will have to wait. They’re spent, both of them, and Cherry pulls the covers up and throws them over their legs. They use each other for warmth, mostly. That’s all they need. 

The next day, sunlight streams through the window and Cherry is gone. For a second, Marcia panics, thinking maybe she imagined everything. But the mattress under her is firm and not lumpy, and the blankets are soft as opposed to scratchy. There’s sound from the kitchen.

Marcia stretches and shuffles out of the room, where the smell of something cooking meets her nose. Marcia’s not only broke but a terrible cook, so she never smells anything like this. When she gets to the kitchen, Cherry’s red hair is tied up and she’s making eggs.

“Hey,” Cherry says. She flips the eggs in the pan and then transfers them to a plate. “Breakfast?”

The morning sun is casting her face in the most beautiful gold as she sets the plate on the table. Marcia takes one of the two chairs and digs in, watching Cherry’s face the whole time.

“You look lovely today,” Marcia says finally.

“You look like shit,” Cherry replies, and kisses her on the cheek. “Like you got drenched by a falling mud puddle yesterday.”

Marcia only grins, too blissful to fire back anything other than, “Smartass.”

Cherry takes her own egg and munches thoughtfully on a bite, staring over at a page of poetry that’s tacked up by the sink.

Marcia sighs contentedly and Cherry looks back at her, eyes bright and face glowing. Things will be different now, that’s for sure. And Marcia doesn’t mind, really, she doesn’t mind at all.

She could get used to this. 


End file.
